Another year has begun. Actually, that we're more than half way through month one is almost inconceivable. I look back on the festive season and acknowledge that, for me, it wasn't. Festive. It was a season to endure. Get through. I did.
I used to love Christmas - I may come to love it again - and my getting through it was, in great measure thanks to both work (the day job and the market) as well as - mostly - my people. My friends who are family. I could not be more grateful for how they embrace me and my tears. Literally and figuratively.
I started the day with this family. B & S on the grass, with cheeky little A between them, well, just seem to know when I most need their stoep.
Then I moved on to a very large, late lunch with Pixie's family.
How special to have my own place and to be seated between two people with whom conversation is fun, easy and meaningful. I wasn't the only person there without my spouse. There were at least four of us. It doesn't make it easier, but it's good to know that people understand the gaping hole and why one is being either unusually quiet or more weird than usual. Again, I could not be more grateful.
We have magnificent sunsets at this time of the year. One particularly spectacular one pulled me out of the kitchen. The light was pink. The sky was pink and my bouganvillea was in the bloomin' pink.
I dropped what I was doing and went out to take a photo. Or two, I admit. Between my leaving the kitchen door and returning to whatever I was doing in the kitchen, this beautifully dangerous creature slithered on to the stoep.
Yes, that's puff adder, one of South Africa's most venemous snakes and true to form, he (or she) didn't move when I approached. I knew he couldn't stay there. I didn't need him slithering into the house, nor tempting either of our felines into investigating - they both would. I literally swept him off, back into the garden and he slithered down the side of the house not to be seen again.
Happily, my transport as The Husband christened it, is always parked next to the front door, and not only did the job, lives to tell the tale and ... well, we'll see what happens come Halloween....
...which brings me to New Year's Eve.
Pixie always themes the evening and most of us get into the spirit (ha!) of things and dress up. This year, it was space opera. I left my planning a little late and devolved from Princess Leia to a mere intergalactic princess.
This is all that remains:
My light sabre and the stars from my hair.
The final part of my "festive" was accompanied by the worst cold - or flu - I've had in years. I was fatigued, I had a sore throat and after a Friday, kitchen day, was so bone achingly sore that supper consisted of a medicated drink that is best unexplained. Suffice it to say that I had a good night's sleep and survived the market and Sunday's birthday party that I really could not miss. I'm glad I didn't because the stoep overlooked this garden:
It's the perfect example of companion planting I've ever seen. I have to use it to inspire me to get back into my garden which has been sorely neglected. Yes, mine's neat and tidy, but I've not been paying much attention to new plantings or the crops. Only the herbs...
So, have I made resolutions? No.
How does the year look? I don't know.
I do know that a part of my life is empty. No, as people seem not to understand, it's not the being alone. It's that The Husband, the companion, the person, is gone. Forever.
I have to forge a new path, understanding that there is a gap that can now only be filled with memories. This is step one.
Until next time
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa
Photo: Selma
Post script
If this post might seem familiar, it's because I'm doing two things:
@artywink
@hive.blog and Canva.